


Everything you ever wished for.

by Kaesteranya



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-03
Updated: 2010-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 23:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaesteranya/pseuds/Kaesteranya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rights and wrongs of this situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything you ever wished for.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for iWHORE 2009, requested by my friend Lynx. The title is taken from the Prompt #4, off the 52 Flavors community. This fic likely takes place sometime after Metal Gear Solid 2.

  
It’s not the most romantic setup that Otacon can think of, really, and definitely not something like all those stories he used to read in his younger years when manga meant everything and big robots stayed quite firmly in the realm of impossibilities. One bedroom apartment, big enough to accommodate two men but with no walls to speak of, absolutely no privacy. Roommate who’s perhaps the greatest soldier the world’s ever seen, but sucks at being civil, _absolutely_ sucks at everything that doesn’t involve some form of combat, and most of all, absolutely _fucking_ sucks at taking care of himself. By most definitions, in fact, this whatever thing that they have going on between them, it’s closer to being something horrible and not-quite-abusive but certainly emotionally draining. Sucks the life right out of you, faster than a bullet-shaped hole in your gut can.

  
Odd, then, the fact that Otacon won’t consider another possibility, or back away towards something safer and less demanding. Someone as logical as him, you’d think that he’d know enough to have at least a vague idea what’s good for him, and waking up at least once a week to an irritable and half-dead roomie crashing through the door and bleeding all over his blueprints for a new machine really shouldn’t count. Otacon believes, though, that the strange sort of domesticity that comes with waking up from a night of slow and rough fucking to the sound of Snake bumbling around in their bathroom and not an inkling where he dropped his clothes is _his_ sort of domesticity, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.  



End file.
